


marihilda week 2020 fics!

by HolyMakkirel



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Cuddling, Eye Horror, F/F, First Kiss, Gift Giving, Healing, Just read the chapter summaries, Long-Distance Relationship, Loss of Limbs, MariHilda Week 2020, Marihilda Week (Fire Emblem), Married Life, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rapunzel Elements, Tags differ by chapter, Teasing, and then you kiss in the infirmary bed, i stopped updating the tags after chapter 5 sorry, light body horror, light gore, technically chapter 2 has major character death but its of old age so, when youre both in love but also both think you're just friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyMakkirel/pseuds/HolyMakkirel
Summary: a collection of fics for marihilda week, assuming i keep up writing for it every day!i've chosen not to use archive warnings because every chapter is a self-contained story. please look at every chatper's summary before reading for any relevant warnings!
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 36
Kudos: 104





	1. day 1: first kiss / cuddles / scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a cozy little 1.5k for day 1! kinda a mix of all three prompts, though all building up towards the first kiss!

“Hilda? Hilda? Hilda!” The call that echoed through the infirmary halls sounded almost unnatural. It was a voice so familiar, one that every member of the Leicester forces had heard most days of the past few years, but never with that tone. Scrambling from room to room, looking for one patient in particular, was Marianne, yelling that same name without any of her usual reservation or concern for the quiet of the medical ward.

For her part, Hilda was just barely stirring to consciousness. She’d taken a nasty hit on the battlefield, one that left her collarbone battered through the heavy armor she’d taken to wearing. Having retreated to the monastery early, she’d long since finished her initial treatment and drifted off to rest. Right until she heard the panicked footsteps and worried cries. She rose up onto her elbows, before feeling a numbing pain in her shoulders from where the bruises dotted her skin and deciding it best to stay laying down. The pain didn’t stop her from calling back with a passionate “Marianne!” 

A moment later, her door was thrown wide open. Hilda didn’t know Marianne  _ could _ throw doors open like that, and Marianne didn’t either. The sight that greeted her was harrowing; Hilda’s skin painted blue and purple, hair uncharacteristically down and eyes drooping weakly. “Oh, Hilda!” called the holy woman, bringing herself in quickly to lay her hands on the damaged skin. Everything magic could do had already been done, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying.

“Marianne…” The touch on her skin did nothing to soothe her wounds, but much to soothe her mind. Marianne’s face, however, did not; eyes scrunched and lips pursing, she was clearly close to tears. Forcing a smile, Hilda wrapped her fingers around Marianne’s wrists. “It’s okay! I’m okay. See? Perfectly fine.” She rolled her shoulders confidently and hid the pain that made her feel.

Pulling away for a moment, Marianne breathed out a heavy sigh. “Oh… I’m so glad you’re okay.” She pulled her arms from Hilda’s grip and sat down beside her on the bed. “I-I thought you were safe… Claude took an arrow and I went to help him, but when I looked back I saw… Oh, Goddess...” Remembering the scene had her devastated; remembering how responsible she felt only made it worse. Hilda could tell that this wasn’t something she wanted to let happen, and so just as she did before Marianne entered, she rose up onto her elbows again. Nudging her way up the bed, she rested her back on the headboard, and lifted her arm up to Marianne’s chin.

“Please…” She turned the girl’s face towards her own. “Please, Marianne, don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do! Please don’t blame yourself… I’m fine, and we don’t know what woulda happened to Claude if you stayed with me, right?”

The pool of tears that’d been welling in Marianne’s eyes stopped, remaining stuck around the edges of them rather than beginning their trip down her cheek. Sniffling, she felt Hilda’s thumb draw up her face and wipe them dry. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yea… you’re right.”

“And besides!” Speaking while sitting like this was painful, but Hilda wasn’t going to show it. “When you turned around and blasted that demonic beast with so much Aura I thought I’d go blind? Getting to watch that kinda made it all worth it.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Marianne whimpered out with a laugh, almost playfully batting at Hilda before remembering that she definitely shouldn’t do that right now. Few people could say they’d heard something so casual from Marianne of all people, but Hilda was special. Marianne was special to her, too.

As the conversation lulled, Marianne shifted, and the covers which had been up to Hilda’s chest fell down to her waist. Her top was covered only in smallclothes and extensive bandaging, leaving a number of gaps that exposed bits of her side and stomach. Bits dotted and lined with scars. Marianne knew that Hilda had been hurt before, tended many of the wounds herself, but only just realized  _ how _ many times it had happened. Her face initially immediately contorted, but quickly softened back into a small smile. Hilda was caught off guard; Marianne was a worrier, and Hilda had expected her to worry about this, not grin. “Marianne?..”

As if in response to being called, Marianne nudged forward, kicking off her boots - okay,  _ trying _ to kick off her boots before embarrassedly stopping and taking them off by hand as Hilda giggled - and laying up against the headboard as well. Knowing what she was being invited to, Hilda rested her head on Marianne’s shoulder, and Marianne rested her cheek on the top of Hilda’s head. “You’re strong... “ she spoke softly. “Sometimes I forget how strong you are.”

“Well, duh!” It took Hilda a second to realize that she could drop the act here. “I have to be strong… if I wasn’t, then you couldn’t count on me, right?” She smiled warmly and tilted her gaze up, lazily locking eyes with Marianne.

“We’re a team. I… don’t like being counted on, but it’s okay when it’s you. So yea. I’m strong.” Energetically, she pulled away from the cuddle and began lifting her arms up to flex. Unfortunately for her, she’d pushed her luck a little too much, and with a soft wince dropped back against the bed. Marianne couldn’t stifle a giggle at the sight, pulling the messy hairs that had gotten onto Hilda’s face into the drop back behind her ears. “I get it. You’re strong. You don’t need to prove it to me.”

Warmed by each other’s presence, the two simply sat there in silence for a bit. Hilda was the first to speak.

“Hey, Marianne?”

“Yes?..”

“We’ve… been through a lot together, huh? Gotten pretty close?”

Marianne felt her heart beat faster. “Y-Yeah. I guess we have, haven’t we?”

Sitting up slightly, Hilda realized she didn’t have the energy to build this up as much as she planned to. “Can I kiss you?” Her cheeks turned bright red as the big romantic plan she’d imagined fell away.

Marianne, for her part, went a little wide-eyed. “M-me? You… want to kiss me?” The way they comfortably shared beds together whenever possible and cuddled when they got the chance and ate next to each other every day hadn’t prepared her for this, particularly not when Hilda was showing so much… vulnerability.

“Yea.” The word came out without permission, speech driven by impulse. “Yea, I wanna kiss you.”

Marianne pulled a loose light blue lock from her bright red cheek and tucked it back behind her ear. “I-... Yes. Yes, you can kiss me, Hilda.” A beaming smile overtook her face before she realized that she should probably pucker up instead. Softly, she closed her eyes and waited to wake up from this dream.

Moments passed, and Hilda still hadn’t kissed her. Worried, Marianne opened an eye slightly, and snickered playfully down at what she saw. Hilda, in a fluster, trying to lift herself up to Marianne’s full sitting height. Carefully, she put a hand on Hilda’s cheek, and then another on her side beneath her arm. She leaned down closer and closer, watching Hilda’s eyes close and lips pucker before matching the expression.

And then, a moment before their lips met, she paused. “Oh, sorry… you asked, so… it’s only fair that I ask too, right?” Hilda’s eyes opened in confusion, finding Marianne’s tender brown gaze awaiting her before she continued. “Can I kiss you?”

Rolling her eyes and sneering, Hilda lifted her head up and closed the last bit of distance Marianne had left between them, stealing the first kiss for herself. “Funny. You’re funny.” She laid back down, looking up at the bright red cheeks and fluttering eyelids above her. “Yea. Yea, you can kiss me. You can kiss me all you’d like.”

“Good…” Marianne whispered the word, not wanting to break the calm they had between them as she laid down all the way, the two now on the same level. She pulled in and kissed her again, and then a few more times, the giver and recipient blurring as the two just kissed each other to make up for all the lost time they’d spent not doing that out of uncertainty. “Because I’d like to kiss you a lot.”

“Yea?” Hilda leaned in and pecked at Marianne’s lips once more. “How much is that?”

“Hmmm…” As if it would help her think, Marianne gave Hilda another kiss in return. “Every morning… every night… a few times in between. Many times. Is… that okay?”

Hilda paused, letting her eyes wander as if she actually had to consider this. Then she smiled warmly and nodded. “Yea. Yea, that’s perfect.” Wanting to embrace the girl beside her, she started to lift herself up… and then fell back onto her side again with another wince. Laughing happily, Marianne twirled a pink lock absentmindedly around her finger.

“We’ll save the hugs for later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time participating in a week of any sort so if there's anything i should know please inform me!


	2. day 2: jewelry / future / long distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> about 2.4k for day 2... this one is primarily an imagination of post-GD route marihilda's future together, but it does also integrate long distance elements and lots of handmade jewelry among hilda's accessories. worth noting: it's their whole futures. it ends with. yknow. warning for major character death here technically! but its calm peaceful in-their-sleep stuff. anyway please enjoy!

In 1180, Marianne met Hilda. It wasn’t the first they’d heard of each other, but despite being two daughters of major alliance houses, they’d never come face to face before. It wasn’t the smoothest meeting. On Marianne’s end, Hilda was so… confident and sociable. She didn’t believe herself worthy of her attention. On Hilda’s, Marianne was so… troubled, and so reluctant to be cared for, which only made her more annoyed at the fact that she actually wanted to take care of someone for once. There was no shortage of friction between them as a result, friction which made it rather hard to get their relationship off the ground.

By 1181, that friction had righted itself, and the two were inseparable. Wherever one went, the other was never far behind. They were good together, and better yet, good for eachother. Marianne (and the tribulations of their first year at Garreg Mach, but  _ really _ , mostly Marianne,) taught Hilda how to try, and Hilda (alongside having to keep up with the many similarly energetic friends Hilda helped her make,) taught Marianne how to smile. Then Garreg Mach fell, and neither of them heard heads or tails of the other for five years. When would they have the time? Hilda was busy fighting in skirmishes with Claude and Leonie, while Marianne, Lysithea, and Raphael were searching for and rescuing all the new orphans the war created. They could have written each other a letter, from time to time, but… simply didn’t. They had things to deal with, and who would take the time out of that to mail a schoolyard friend?

In 1185, Hilda met Marianne. Again. They’d both changed of course, and change brought friction again. They were tired. Neither one had time to reconnect. But, eventually, they had no choice; the battle at Gronder left them both too tired not to collapse, and fate would have them collapse into each other. When they rose, they rose together, and together they would remain. For the first time since they reunited, Hilda noticed the bracelet wrapped around Marianne’s wrist: It was the very first gift she’d ever given her, all those years ago. Marianne, too, seemed to remember the importance it had to her. Once more, the two were inseparable, from Garreg Mach to Enbarr to Shambhala and back.

Then, in 1186, they were separated. They had different plans for how to use their spoils; Hilda’s her own, and Marianne’s her father’s. Margrave Edmund needed an heir, and in Hilda’s eyes, Fódlan needed more artisans. Both would have to fulfill those plans, even if it meant time apart again. But they were older, and they were smarter, and they cared about each other enough to not let the distance stop them. They sent each other so many letters that they hired a personal courier who just went back and forth between them. Eventually, letters became insufficient, and gifts were added to the mix. Hilda would attach so many accessories that she ended up sending jewelry boxes on occasion, just to help Marianne keep them all; Marianne, meanwhile give the courier requests to stop by nearby bakeries before heading to the Goneril estate, delivering fresh sweets and pastries to enjoy alongside the missives. The two were already close when they moved apart. The distance only made them more intent on showing it.

By 1190, the letters changed. “Dear” became “My dearest,” and “Sincerely” became “With love” became “With only the deepest affections.” Time apart hadn’t put any space between them, but it had changed them: Those five years away from each other were never far off their minds, and they both wanted to tell the other that it would never happen again. In the absence of hugs and kisses, hand-holds and heads-on-shoulders, they signed their letters with hearts and sprayed perfume on the envelopes. Their routine called for a second courier just to make the trips. Every morning, Marianne would send Hilda a letter, and by the afternoon Hilda would have it; Before nightfall, her response would be in Marianne’s hands. Hilda would drift off to sleep comforted in the knowledge that Marianne was thinking of her, and Marianne would dream of how to respond the next day. Those around them questioned why neither seemed to seek a lover, both women nearing their thirties by now, but if anyone asked they would simply answer with the truth: They already had someone.

In 1195, it was their time to reunite in person. Margrave Edmund’s health had been declining, and he passed comfortably in his sleep under the glow of the Garland Moon. Hilda came for the funeral, and met there with Marianne. Accounts of the day would note how the two were closer to each other than anyone else, a surprising relationship to have for two who hadn’t seen each other for nearly a decade. People asked each about who the other was, and why they were so close, and they both simply answered with the truth once more: Since 1885, they hadn’t spent a second apart.

1195 hadn’t even finished yet, but the two would be separated and reunited for the last time in their lives. After the proceedings, political talk happened, as it was wont to whenever enough nobles were on the same estate. Hilda discussed opening artisan academies all over the continent, the success of her first and the renaissance it had kickstarted motivating excited responses from leaders all around the United Kingdom of Fódlan. She sent her most trusted professors to oversee establishment across the continent, but personally supervised the installment in Edmund territory. Marianne would give the full support of House Edmund to the project, which, of course, included giving Hilda a place to stay near the academy. That place was the Edmund estate; more often than not, it was Marianne’s own bed, where Hilda would lovingly laze whenever she wasn’t needed at the school, watching Marianne handle paperwork at her desk and blowing her kisses. After so much time spent miles apart, they spent a surprising amount of time a few feet away from each other. When asked about this peculiarity of their relationship, they would answer with the truth yet again: They’d gotten so used to being apart, that they often forgot they could simply walk up and kiss each other.

1196 marked the ten-year memorial for the battle against Nemesis. The day after, Marianne and Hilda made it clear that they’d adjusted to being able to touch each other, because they walked down a wedding aisle hand in hand and kissed on the steps at the end. Ten years had passed since the day they were separated, and neither could think of a better day to promise that would never happen again. The rings, of course, were hand-designed, and would become two of the most famous artifacts ever crafted by Master Goneril. The wedding plan, on the other hand, was managed to the finest detail by Marianne, and for centuries to pass “an Edmundian wedding” would refer to one suited so perfectly to the partners that no other words could describe them. 

The rest of the decade passed comfortably. Hilda would, from then on, remain a permanent resident of the Edmund estate, though she often had to travel the continent to check in at the wide-reaching network of academies that had sprung up over the years. Wherever she went, her wife was not far behind. Marianne’s presence only helped the assessment process; she’d grown more confident since her war days, and she’d seen enough of Hilda’s mastercrafts that she had an eye for the things by now. It was said that any apprentice who got Hilda’s approval was a capable student, but any one who got Marianne’s was a capable artisan. Back home, Marianne cultivated a strong, independent territory, pleasant to live in for all. It helped that she couldn’t keep Hilda, or Freikugel, away from the negotiating table. Few felt confident enough to try and take advantage of her at that point.

1200 rolled around, and the two had established bright careers for themselves. Freer now to seek other things, they both took a step back from their leadership roles and visited a local orphanage. They left with a child, who would not be their last; they cultivated a happy family, six children taking their name over the years. Houses Goneril and Edmund did not find themselves lacking for heirs, but more importantly the two’s experiences had taught them not to pressure the children with harrowing expectations. All six grew up into wonderful people, each one a hero to the people in their own right. When asked about their influences, all six would answer with the truth: their mothers loved each other, loved them, and loved the world they’d helped create. Given that, how could they not do their best to make it better?

1222 arrived sooner than they thought it possibly could, the raising of children giving them no chance to pay attention to the passage of time. As the heirs trickled out of their home, they would find themselves alone together once more. They adored it. They were still young, neither woman breaking 60 yet, and having done everything they were moved to do felt as if they’d earned the rest of their lives to do nothing but enjoy. Lord Holst, despite nearing his seventies by now, remained perfectly sound of body and mind, needing no assistance in controlling Goneril lands. Edmund territories, meanwhile, would find themselves perfectly operated by the masterful hand of the pair’s oldest child. They called in a favor from an old, mutual, handsome, clever, intelligent, influential, intellectual scheming friend, and were soon flying through the skies on personal, well trained Almyran wyverns. They visited every corner of Fódlan, and then Almyra, Brigid, Dagda, and anywhere else they felt like going. Wherever they went, they roamed the land freely and hand-in-hand, enjoying each other’s company under every sunset the world would give them. Wherever they could find couriers, they sent letters back home, just as they once did to each other. The ones sent to the Edmund estate had gifts in them, for the whole of the continent: seeds.

In 1232, the two returned, deciding that 10 years away from home was long enough. They came back to find that their pet project had taken off better than they could have imagined, and the Goneril-Edmund (they were on Edmund land, after all; it was only fair that Hilda’s name get to go first in exchange) Public Gardens bloomed vibrantly with every fruit and vegetable, tree and flower that would settle down in the local climate without damaging balance of nature there. They inspired similar undertakings all across Fódlan, and then all across the world, and seeds were distributed far over the continent to assist in such endeavors. But for all the good it did for everyone else, Marianne and Hilda still did it for their own purposes; when night fell and the gardens were empty, they would walk along the paths that wound between them. Marianne would point to the flowers and recall where they came from, and tell Hilda every detail of what they’d done that day, as her memory of every second she spent on Hilda’s arm was so strong that she couldn’t ever forget them. And Hilda, in turn, would invite Marianne to sit beneath the trees with her, and take her back to the same loving embraces they’d shared in all those distant groves. 

In 1236, Hilda Valentine Goneril-Edmund passed away in her sleep, wrapped in the embrace of the woman who lived her most in the world. The funeral drew mass attention, with droves upon droves of craftspeople she’d personally trained and dear friends she’d made on her journeys coming to mourn her. None, however, were more concerned than those who’d fought alongside the duo in the war, who despite everything still deep down remembered the two as they were back then. Their old friends were worried for Marianne, afraid of how she might cope with this loss; yet, to their surprise, Marianne seemed unfazed. When they asked her how she was so calm about this, she answered simply and with the truth: Hilda had promised they would never be apart again, and Hilda wouldn’t lie to her. 

By 1237, it was clear that Marianne was not bluffing. She woke up in the morning and did everything just as she once did with Hilda by her side. She walked the gardens, reminisced on the flowers and smiled at the trees, with one small change: the route. For she and Hilda would walk wherever Hilda’s fancy led them, often a different path every day. But Marianne’s always ended at the same place: under the largest Almyran Ironwood they had, where Hilda’s gravestone stood just slightly off-center from the end of the path. She would sit in it’s shadow and just bask in the quiet, sometimes bringing the sweets she used to share with Hilda to enjoy alongside her. She never once seemed to miss the lover she’d lost, and while no one was rude enough to ask why, they had a good idea of what her answer would be: What was there to miss? Who did she lose? For no matter where she was, in this world or the next, Hilda was by her side. 

In 1239, Marianne von Edmund-Goneril followed in the footsteps of her lover and her father, falling asleep and not waking up. When they found her body, it was like she knew this was coming, as though she’d been told in advance by something, for clutched tight to her chest was the very same bracelet Hilda had given her all those years ago in the Garreg Mach courtyard. She’d stopped wearing it, at some point; it was only when her son showed it at her funeral that Claude, always the perceptive one, could tell the attendants what it was. It was buried with them, under that Almyran Ironwood, a symbol of their bond left in a little box left over their coffins. Coffins, of course, laid wall-to-wall with each other.

After all, the two made had that promise in 1196, and they wouldn’t dream of lying to eachother: They would be, in life and in death, inseparable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry if this seems early for day 2 😔 i was writing it as the day changed to the 13th in my (lebanese) timezone and i figured i might as well upload it now!


	3. day 3: flowers / horse ride / fairytales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3! 2.8k and i finally managed to just use one of the prompts dfjladshfaljk. it's pretty purely fairytale based, specifically a rapunzel au! please enjoy 😊

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess, locked away in a tall, tall tower in the middle of the forest. Her noble brother, endless in his cruelty, would make the journey from the Goneril estate and unlock her door every day. “Hilda, Hilda!” he would cry, “Please, you can’t just sit in bed all day! We need you back at the castle!” But every day, without fail, the princess would lock the door once more, and answer his call with a “Leave me alone, Holst!” It wasn’t that she couldn’t leave; it was that she didn’t want to. Her lifestyle brought her nothing but bliss, lazing around all she wanted, no one left to disappoint, everyone who knew her already having lowered their expectations to match her behavior. She rose at noon and went to sleep at sundown, the little time she spent awake enjoyed basking in the sunlight and chirping along with whatever birds perched on her windowsill, alongside reading whatever storybooks Holst brought by for the boredom. Food and water were left at the door with every trip Holst made, and with how much she slept she didn’t need much. She was happy, for the most part. Her hair, a few dozen feet long, made it difficult to navigate the tower sometimes, but she couldn’t complain with how little she wanted for anything else. That is, until the day  _ she _ stumbled into the clearing.

Marianne was not a very adventurous woman. Though she was a noble, she was often left to her own devices, devices that tended to lead her to the stables. That was where her dearest friend lived: Dorte, her cherished steed. Marianne, uniquely enough, could speak to animals as though she was a beast herself, and Dorte always told her the most pleasant things, things people would only share when they thought no one was listening. The secrets she knew about the knights and couriers of the estate! If she cared for it, she could have them all wrapped around her finger, but fortunately for them, the idea didn’t appeal to her. Marianne was content to simply gossip for the fun of it, and go where Dorte might take her as she felt his comforting sway on their journeys through the woods.

One day, comforted by the rhythmic motion of Dorte beneath her, Marianne dozed off on his back. When she stirred, she was under a great shadow. At first, she thought he may have deposited her beneath some tree, as he often did when she fell asleep mid-ride. She quickly realized that the structure before her looked more like brick than bark, and scrambling away she gazed up to find a tall, tall tower rising above her. She craned her neck until she saw a window facing out of the room at the top, which she could have sworn she saw a pink mass moving behind. Afraid of what might be lurking within, Marianne quickly got back on horseback and rode away.

Watching the rider leave from up high, Hilda groaned into her hair-gripping hands. She’d peeked out to watch it prance when she heard a horse trotting into the clearing, but imagine her surprise when she saw that it was carrying someone on its back! The striking blue hair caught her attention, but when it left her in the shade a bit away from the tower to go partake in a fine bit of grazing, Hilda couldn’t help but stare. The woman was  _ beautiful.  _ It wasn’t often that she saw anybody but Holst, let alone anyone so… so. After a moment or two, Hilda realized how strange it would be to just stare out the window at someone while they slept, so she tried to occupy herself with her usual distractions of bird watching and cloud counting. Neither went well, though, for every time she got her mind off the lady sleeping beneath her she’d re-enter her peripheral vision and make her start all over again. Hilda was resolved: As soon as the woman in blue woke up, she would call out to her and start a conversation. How hard could it be? She was plenty good at conversations! She’d practiced often just by trying to get Holst to leave her al -  _ Oh Goddess oh fuck, she’s awake, can’t let her see me staring HIDE _ \- aaaaaand she was gone. 

Hilda went to bed early that night. Even earlier than she usually did. the sun was barely on its way down, but her mood had dropped too sharply for her to bother with anything more that day beyond burying her face in her pillow and sulking. She cursed her inaction, certain that she’d lost the opportunity to meet the woman, learn why she’d come to her tower, who she was, what she did for fun, if she wanted to come share her daily feast with her… all because she was too scared to yell “Hey!” For a brief moment, she considered actually  _ leaving _ the tower, Goddess-forbid… but then people might actually expect her to do that. Often. Even when she didn’t want to. Dejected, she resigned herself to never knowing what could have been.

Then, the next afternoon, her eyes nearly jumped from her skull. While looking longingly up at the sky from her windowsill, that same woman came riding into the clearing once more. Immediately, Hilda tucked herself away just as she had the day before. She was certain that this noble, heroic horseback-hero had mistaken her for some pink, fuzzy monster, and was sieging the tower to slay her for glory. She scrambled for the axe that she kept under her bed and waited to hear the door break open.

Instead, she heard a soft, delicate “Hello?” She was tempted to look back out and see what was going on, but paranoid thoughts possessed her, fears of an arrow sailing up through the window into her skull. The voice from below continued: “I’m sorry if I startled you up there. I… I’m not sure if you’re a person or an animal, but I can talk to animals! So… if you’re scared, you can come out and we can talk it out. O-or, if you’re a person, well, sorry to bother you.” 

Marianne was deeply conflicted over not knowing who or what she was talking to. She didn’t spend much time talking to people, and she didn’t want to waste the time of the tower occupant with her presence if they were a human. Yet, if they were an animal, trapped in there, unable to negotiate with whoever had them locked away, she wanted to help and give them the only ear she knew of that could listen. Yet, there was no response. Not even a wisp of pink in the window like there was the day prior. She paused, waiting a few moments more, before she realized that there was no response coming. She tarried for a moment, then a moment longer, hoping that maybe whatever was in there was just afraid, and would come out any second now. But the silence went uninterrupted. Frowning, she turned Dorte around and rode off into the trees again.

If Hilda felt bad the night before, she felt like the world’s biggest idiot today. There she was, the woman who she’d self-destructed over missing her opportunity with, all but offering her another one on a plate… and she didn’t take it. The hair in her hands felt wet. She ran her fingers through it, realizing the cause; she’d been crying into it, and paying attention to it suddenly made her aware of the tightness in her chest. Surrounded by her own locks like a cocoon, Hilda couldn’t even bring herself to crawl into bed. Her bawling turned to sniffling turned to snoring as she fell asleep right there, up against her window.

And then she woke up to that same voice. Against all reason, Marianne had come back, fate or curiosity or a need for closure drawing her to this place yet again. And this time, Hilda’s bright pink hair was poking right out of the window, meaning that there was no hiding it any longer. With a confidence she hadn’t shown yesterday, her voice rang out: “I see you! I see you up there! Please, believe me, I’m not going to hurt you, so… talk to me!” 

Hilda was dumbfounded. What did she do, to deserve so many chances? This time, she was  _ not _ going to dally, and quickly laid her hands on the sill and thrust her head out the window, preparing to throw out the “Hello!” she’d been rehearsing for two days, but stopping dead in her tracks. As soon as she’d popped up, the woman below visibly recoiled. A thousand thoughts plagued Hilda’s mind in that moment; was she grotesque? Did every woman outside these walls look infinitely better than she did? Had so much time locked away turned her ghastly? She simply stood there, wracked with panic as her jaw dropped and she looked down.

Marianne broke the silence first, panicking herself as she called out “Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” It was not a response Hilda expected; why would this woman be apologizing for her own repulsiveness? “I… don’t know what I was expecting, but… it wasn’t this. I thought maybe you were some kind of… I don’t know, shaggy fur monster, or something?.. But to find a human woman up there, and such a gorgeous one at that… I think you caught me off guard.” Now Hilda was  _ really _ confused. She was gorgeous? She never really got to compare her appearance to others before so this was all very new to her. Leaning down, she rested her arms on the windowsill and her chin on her palms as the woman below her backpedaled.

“I’m… I’m sorry, too,” spoke the princess. “I shouldn’t have hid myself away. Especially when you came back to see me! I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but… I’m really glad you came back.” A dopey grin came onto her face, one that reflected how simultaneously new and wonderful this all was to her. Marianne reciprocated with a smaller one, slowly warming up to this whole situation. When the silence dragged on a little too long, she was the first to break it.

“So… would you like to come out here? It’d be easier to talk face to face…”

Hilda froze up. “Ah, the thing is, I… don’t really leave. I haven’t stepped out of this tower in… well, a long time.”

Turning her gaze to the side, Marianne opened her mouth to let out a dejected “Oh…” Before she could even spill the syllable, Hilda was yelling back at her again.

“B-but, that doesn’t mean you can’t come in here! Look, I’ll toss you a spare key!” With that, Hilda disappeared from the window. Shuffling could be heard up there as her searching grew more and more frantic, her hair occasionally flipping up into the air as she turned her room upside-down. When she reappeared, her expression was dire and her hands were empty. “Aha… uh, it seems like, maybe, I lost the key… do you think you could come back tomorrow? My brother has the other key and he comes by every day…”

Smiling sadly, Marianne nodded. “Mhm… I understand! I’ll be back soon, okay? Please don’t go back into hiding…”

“I won’t! I’m… sorry about all that. And today.”

“No worries… I’ve messed up more than enough to understand.” Waving up, Marianne mounted Dorte once again and turned away. Looking to Hilda one last time, her eyes went wide as the tower-bound girl blew her a kiss. Blushing bright, she giggled softly, and awkwardly blew one back before slowly beginning her ride away.

The blown kiss turned Hilda just as red as her own turned Marianne. Still a little upset about today, she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger… and kept twirling, and twirling, and twirling. Suddenly, she had a stupid, painful sounding idea, and unable to stop herself she leaned far out of the window and called out to Marianne to come back.

“Hilda? What is it? Did you find the key?”

Drawing as much hair as she could into her arms, Hilda looked downright silly as she approached the windowsill. “No, but I have a better idea!” she lied, dropping her locks down to the ground outside. She wrapped some of it around her waist so as to not scalp herself under Marianne’s waist, and hugged the pole of her bed for support. Closing her eyes to brace herself, she called out “climb on!”

Slightly concerned about the logistics of this all, Marianne tugged at the hair a bit to test it. It pooled on the ground, and seemed sturdy enough to hold her weight. She heard no complaints when she tugged, meaning Hilda was either not feeling pain or very good at hiding it. Anxiously, she gripped it in her hands and pulled herself up. Hilda’s decision to wrap the hair around herself was paying off, her somehow-tremendously-muscular core very capable of holding against Marianne’s weight. To accelerate the process, she stepped further and further into her room, pulling up the whole ladder of hair with her. Each step was difficult, until they weren’t anymore. In fact, the sudden drop in resistance nearly tripped her! She imagined that it had to look pretty stupid, watching her stumble over nothing, but she didn’t care; she turned around, and there she was: Marianne.

“That was… really impressive, Hilda.” Marianne leaned out of the window, waving Dorte away to his own devices for the night and tugging up the hefty mass of pink locks. Getting it back into the room, she turned to find Hilda standing far closer than she was before she turned away. The proximity made her blush. “S-sorry?.. Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” The word escaped Hilda’s mouth before she even realized she was saying it. “No, no, not at all, just… for days, I’ve been looking at you from so far away.” She stepped back, suddenly shy. “I guess I just wanted to look at you up closer.”

To both of their surprise, Marianne closed the distance, her hand finding its way onto Hilda’s shoulder. In her shock, Hilda jolted forward ever so slightly, and the loose hairs that had found themselves carpeting the floor jolted with her, sweeping Marianne off her feet and sending her tumbling. Fortunately, the bed was immediately in their descent trajectory, and the two tumbled directly onto it, hair coiling around them into a loose binding. Hilda, laying on top of Marianne, laughed in embarrassment, looking apologetic. Grinning up at her, Marianne simply shrugged and simpered.

“Is this close enough?” She teased.

“Hmmm… no, not really. Can I get closer?”

The confidence melted off Marianne’s face, replaced with a flustered and obviously false imitation. “S-sure. N-no problem here!”

Hilda pressed in even closer, until neither could tell what parts of the air between them were coming out of whose rapid breaths. “Better, but… can I get closer?”

Any facade of being cool or smug about this was gone without a trace, as Marianne’s cheeks flushed with color and her tone turned stammery. “Yes!.. O-of course. Please. Closer… is good.” With every time she opened her mouth to say a word, Hilda’s breath warmed her tongue.  _ How close was she willing to get? _

Hilda answered that question before Marianne could even finish thinking it, as she closed the last of the distance that remained between them and planted a kiss straight on her lips. It was short and sweet, but so was the time they’d spent together so far. Neither of them wanted either thing to stay that way.

The two rolled around until Hilda’s hair was untangled from them, and sat on the side of the bed. “So…” Marianne asked. “What do you do around here? While we wait for your brother, I mean.”

“Well, mostly, I just… sleep. I like sleeping. Do you wanna do some of that?.. Together?”

“Now? The sun’s just set…”

“That’s the fun of it! Never gotta deal with the darkness. Saves a ton on candles!”

Marianne couldn’t stop herself from giggling. What an eccentric woman. “Well, okay, but you need to promise me that tomorrow we leave the tower, yes? You should see the world… even if just a bit of it.” She was surprised by her own words. She’d never much been one for authoritativeness.

“Well… if it’s with you, I think that’s okay. But no one sees us! Not for now, at least. Maybe if I decide to make it a regular thing. Deal?”

Marianne leaned in and planted a kiss of her own on Hilda’s lips. “Deal.” The word simple and clear, she turned away from the girl beside her and crawled under the covers. Wordlessly, Hilda followed.

For the first time in sixteen years, the princess in the tower slept with someone wrapped in her arms. She could get used to this, she thought… even if it meant needing to be counted on, from time to time.


	4. day 4: modern AU / soulmates / comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4! 1.7k of modern AU with a comfort theme thrown in as well. holst runs an all-natural artisanal vegan eatery, and hilda happens to fill in for a sick cashier on one particular day. this fic doesnt actually have them getting together or anything but theres comforting and flirting and flustered conversations so

“Welcome to Goneril’s Greens… can I take your order?” The girl behind the counter neither looked up from her phone nor stopped twirling her pink hair when she felt the shadow of a customer standing over her. Absentminded, she just wanted the day to end. Her brother had managed to talk her into filling in for a sick employee, and it sounded like an easy enough way to make a quick buck. The  _ boredom, _ though… goodness, the boredom.

“Uhm…” The anxious voice placing its order immediately caught Hilda’s attention. The girl looked tired, her hair up in what looked like it used to be a crown braid. Loose, messy strands dangled around her ears and forehead, framing her eyes. Eyes that looked like they’d just got done crying, rimmed with bags and slightly puffy. “Can I get the…’Amazing Almyran,’ with the ‘Cinnamon-Sweet’ smoothie?” 

Marianne was new here, as made clear by the fact that she actually ordered with the names Holst had put on the menu and not just “Almyran tabbouleh” and “that cinnamon thing.” She was walking home that afternoon when she got a text, which was really nothing more than a lot of words that amounted to “it’s not you, it’s me, we’re over now.” Having cried herself out in the nearest alleyway, she was tired and wanted something to get her mind off things, but didn’t really know much about the area. She liked these little artisanal-looking vegan spots though; they were quiet and calm, a good place to just sit and mind your business. Unfortunately for her, neither quiet nor calm were terms that applied to either Goneril.

Hilda took the order, put away the money, and watched Marianne walk to her table, noting which one it was for later. She walked back into the kitchen, relaying it to the cooks before heading out back to find Holst, who was currently sorting out a shipment of Dagdan radishes and humming excitedly to the newest Hannah Diamond blasting against his skull. Cupping her hands around her mouth she let out a hearty  _ “HOLST!” _

Jolting upright, the man almost knocked his airpod out of his ear. “Hilda?” He turned the music down, frowning at her. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

“Yea, well, that’s just what I wanted to talk about!” She looked up at her brother, who wasn’t particularly tall standing at only 5’8” but had nearly eight full inches on her regardless. “This girl walked in and she looks really sad. I’m gonna go sit with her, so… can you get the counter?”

He looked at her like she had to be joking. “I… literally brought you here to do specifically that one thing. Can you not just work for, like, one single day?”

“Nope!” She said, matter-of-factly. “I quit. Keep the pay and have fun taking orders, Holsty!” Walking off, she blew him a kiss before re-entering the kitchen.

The salad was assembled and the smoothie was mixed, plus a hearty serving of fries had just been pulled from the oil. Grabbing a tray, Hilda put Marianne’s order together plus the fries extra, then took her Goneril Green’s shirt off right then and there, putting her jacket on over it and zipping it up past her chest. She pulled $50 from her wallet and put it into the register as she passed, as compensation for both the fries and inconvenience, before going over to Marianne with her order.

Confused by… everything going on right now, Marianne shook her head apologetically. “Oh, there must be a mix-up… I didn’t order any fries.” She didn’t comment on the fact that the… cashier? Waitress? Seemed to have changed outfits, but she definitely noticed it.

“Yea, well, they’re on the house!” Hilda set the food down on the table and slid in across the booth, sitting across from Marianne. “I hope you don’t mind, but… you look really sad. Do you want some company?”

This was weird. This wasn’t something that really happened, ever, and particularly not to Marianne. Normally, she wouldn’t want to be such a focus of another person, but the sheer absurdity of this situation made her feel strangely comfortable just letting it play out. “Oh, uhm… okay, sure.” She pushed the plate of fries towards Hilda. “Please, help yourself.”

“Thanks!” Despite the somber atmosphere, Hilda remained bright and bubbly. “It’s my first time seeing you in here… you a vegan? Or just,” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “Looking for a place to sit down for a bit?”

“That second thing…” Marianne realized that this place probably didn’t get too many people just coming through for fun. She figured most wouldn’t want to spent $18 on a salad. Still, it  _ was _ a good salad. Better company, though she didn’t imagine most people got to enjoy it like she was. “I… had a rough breakup, is all. Sorry… you probably don’t ca-”

Not letting her finish the self-deprecation, Hilda let out an audible gasp. “Someone dumped  _ you _ ? Really? What an idiot!” It was a heavy compliment to be laying on a stranger, but she was a heavy flirt. “You seem so kind, and warm, and you look wonderful even right after a big cry…”

Marianne gave a dopey grin, making it clear that she wasn’t particularly used to being complimented, even so simply. “Ah… thank you, but…” she couldn’t  _ deny _ those things, even if she didn’t think them. It’d be rude to turn down someone trying to earnestly to comfort her, particularly a well-meaning stranger who brought her extra fries. Fries that she was enjoying quite a bit between words. “I don’t know… I don’t really have too many friends, and not being able to hold down a relationship… it just feels like I’m not cut out for this stuff.”  _ People. Being known. That stuff. _

“Hey, now! I’ll tell you what,” Hilda spoke softly, pulling a napkin from the holder and a pen from her pocket. “Here’s my number,” she said, scribbling it down and sliding it to Marianne. “Whenever you feel like taking another shot at ‘that stuff,’ just gimme a call. I’d love to hang out with you.”

Marianne pushed the napkin away. “Oh, no, I couldn’t… I mean, you don’t even know me, and… I’m sure you’ll just regret it. I appreciate the offer and you being so nice but, really, you don’t have to do this.”

Hilda, unfazed, simply shoved the number back and casually swallowed the fry she’d been chewing. “I  _ know _ I don’t have to do this, you.”  _ Oops. Never asked her name. Whatever. _ “I  _ want _ to. Something about you tells me we could be friends! Really, from the bottom of my heart,” she reached out and grabbed Marianne’s hands in her own. “You seem cool. Super cool.”

Marianne was dumbfounded. No one had ever put in so much… effort, just to hang out with her. And the hands wrapped around hers were  _ warm _ , and  _ soft _ , and she suddenly realized that even though she’d presumably been here all day Hilda smelled  _ really _ good, like peaches and cinnamon. Well, the cinnamon might have been from the drink, but  _ still. _ A small smile overtaking her face, she nodded and retrieved one of her hands, tucking the napkin into her purse with a smile. “Okay. You win.”

“Good!” Chirped Hilda playfully. “I like when that happens. Don’t wait too long to call me, okay?” She winked, pointing playfully with her free finger.”It’s not nice to keep someone waiting when they want to see you.”

Tomato-red Marianne nodded and promised she wouldn’t. Before Hilda could respond, the wooden slap of the counter flap against its side signalled that Holst was coming towards them. Looking back, she saw him approaching with her balled up shirt and slightly-annoyed, slightly-confused look on his face. Turning back to Marianne quickly, she unzipped her jacket down enough to make it clear there was nothing underneath it before zipping it back and standing up. As she walked away to catch whatever earful he was going to give her, she gestured one last  _ call me _ to Marianne.

Though she was alone, the smile never left Marianne’s face, even though her food and her drink seemed to lose some of their flavor. She finished, waving goodbye across the restaurant to Hilda with that same beaming grin plastered all over her face before walking out and heading home. Being out on the same street where she got the text reminded her of what had inspired the whole meal in the first place. Remembering it would have usually depressed her, but not today. She simply pulled the napkin from from her purse and copied the number into her phone. She realized, embarrassingly enough, that she never got the girl’s name. She playfully saved the contact as “Cute Cashier” with a shrug.

That night, after working up the courage for a good half hour, Marianne tapped the phone icon on her contact. As it rang, she questioned if this was all some mean spirited prank, until that familiar, bubbly voice picked up.

“Hello? Who is this?” Hilda, asked, even though she already had a good idea who was on the other end of the line.

The question caught Marianne off guard, and in her panic to explain herself acted on impulse. “Ah, uh, I… I came by the restaurant earlier today?.. Is this Cute Cashi-”  _ SHIT. That was  _ **_not_ ** _ her name but she’d just typed it into bring up the contact and she was thinking about it and oh Godd- _

“That depends… Is this the cute girl with the stupid ex?”

The words slowed Marianne’s rapid heartbeat in a second. “Ehehe…  _ Marianne. _ My name is Marianne. I’m sorry I never introduced myself before.”

“Don’t mention it! I didn’t either, but you almost guessed right! I  _ am _ cute, but I’m not a cashier.” She paused to giggle at her own joke. “My name’s Hilda.”

Still slightly embarrassed by her slip-up, Marianne took a few deep breaths. Noticing the pause, Hilda rang out through the phone. “Helloooooo?.. Marianne?.. You still there?”

“Yes, yea, I am, sorry… so, Hilda.”

“Do you want to go out tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this holst characterization seems wacky but also 1) literally all we know about him is that he was dumb enough to eat a poisonous mushroom and i think he went drinking with almyrans who were supposed to be attacking once? 2) its based on a really nice take on holst a friend of mine has in a modern au we're a part of 3) Does it matter. girls


	5. day 5: family / goddess tower / beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy 16th everyone. i did NOT get this beta read so good luck to me. this chapter is based on the beast prompt (oh boy!) and deals with marianne partially turning into a demonic beast with hilda hunting her down trying to save her (SPOILERS: IT ENDS WELL BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANNA DO SOMETHING TOO SAD FOR A SHIP WEEK)
> 
> it's a hefty 3.7k words and has some described eye horror (though no major eye trauma), some monstery looking bits that could get body-horrory for some (not as bad as the azure moon final boss, to give a sense of what range we're in) and some injury+limb loss. if those things make you squeamish consider yourself warned! i tried to avoid describing anything too graphically, but your mileage may vary so do what you think is best.

The snarling of fauna. The snap of branches against her axe dragging through the mud. The occasional  _ thunk _ of its spines against a stone, and the rustling of leaves that followed as the rocks flew into the bushes. Hilda cared not for any of them. Her senses were seeking out two things alone: the sight of that damned black tar and sound of labored, monstrous breathing. The pain in her calf flared up with every step she took. She supposed she’d gotten lucky, with which hand  _ it _ had attacked her with, but still, those claws hurt like shit. It wasn’t her, though. Whatever that was, painting itself on her body like a suit and running around like it had the right to use her as a skeleton was  _ not _ Marianne.

Hilda could barely trudge two steps without kicking some poor carcass, proof enough that it couldn’t be her. She would  _ never _ hurt an animal. Hilda repeated that to herself, whenever she wondered if her plan was worth it. She remembered what happened the last time she saw something like this. Miklan. The image was still fresh in her mind, and it always made her think,  _ If we’d just pulled that lance from his hands… could we have stopped it? _ The thought worried her. She wanted an easier solution. She’d seen it already. She knew that accursed sword wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of.

That damned sword. Hilda felt like she could hear it, scraping against the ground in the shadows. Was it that close? She was vigilant in any case, even if it didn’t show. She remembered when they pulled it from Maurice. Marianne had been worried her whole life that it was her crest which might ruin her, but what a relief it was to find that the heart of the rumor was the same manner of demonic beast transformation they’d been dealing with all along. There was something odd about it, though; Miklan transformed because he was crestless, but Maurice was a crest bearer. If only they’d thought harder on it before, maybe this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

Marianne took the sword into battle every day. She was so happy, finally being able to fight alongside everyone, alongside Hilda. It was like Blutgang was tailor-made for her, channeling her natural magical aptitudes into something that allowed her to better protect those she cared for. Convenient, but not enough so to rouse suspicions. But the way it made her fight… she seemed feral, nearly possessed, particularly when looking at something non-human. Marianne had never liked to face down cavalry, feeling bad for all the horses who’d done nothing but be bred in a different territory. But now, it was different. It was as though she was  _ hunting _ . 

The two had been sharing a room for months now, enjoying each other’s company when the chance presented itself. As a result, Hilda was the first to notice the changes. Marianne stopped letting them take Blutgang to the armory, saying it was best to keep one’s weapons close. She started coming to the room later, just getting in bed silently. Her heartbeat seemed faster. She was sweating in her sleep. And her skin… it felt tough, brittle. She begged and pleaded with Marianne to go to the infirmary, but she kept saying she was fine. And then, one day, she accepted. Hilda was  _ beyond _ relieved.

That was the night Marianne didn’t come to the room. They searched and searched and found no sign of her anywhere on monastery grounds or in the surrounding towns. Their first lead came a few days later, when a number of nightly forest patrol guards went missing. Some worried that Marianne had fallen victim to the same abductor. Hilda had more suspicions. After all, a staple of their room disappeared right when Marianne did: Blutgang. She knew what this was.

That very night, Hilda grabbed Freikugel and made her way into the same forest where they’d met Maurice. She didn’t know that Marianne would go there, nor did she have any reason to suspect it, but… it seemed appropriate. Her intuitions were rewarded when, not long after stepping foot between its trees and calling out a few “Marianne?”s, she saw a blur of blue-and-black pass her by before she felt the tears appear in her leg. As the assailant disappeared back into the woods, she noticed a horrifying asymmetry in its figure: One of its arms ended not with a hand, but with that same serrated blade she’d seen in the corner of the room all those nights.

The trees finally thinned. Hilda remembered this place. It was right after they took down Maurice, Marianne was… shaken. She didn’t want to go back to the monastery. The two of them lingered in the forest until she’d calmed down, and they came upon this perfect little clearing. It had to be man made, they thought; trees surrounded it in a rough ring, with one great stump dead in the middle, big enough for more than two to sit on. It was a good place to rest after such a stressful day. Hilda approached the stump, climbed onto it, and knelt, propping herself up on her axe. “Marianne.”

Nothing.

“Marianne.”

Nothing.

“...Marianne. Marianne. Marianne!” Her tone grew more desperate and more angry with each repetition. Stalking through the woods, it was easy to stay stable. The tension, the adrenaline, it kept her that way. Now, in this calm? When she was safest, with a clear line of sight in all directions? She had time to think, and her thoughts were scary.

“Marianne?..” It came out weak and questioning, as if there was any doubt in her mind that the beast could hear her. Could Marianne, still? Or was Marianne gone, replaced already?

She heard something tearing through the air. Looking up and behind herself, she saw it, sailing towards her through the skies. Quick thoughts told her it was more likely to land in front of her, and so she launched herself backwards off the stump, landing behind it and drawing up her axe. When her eyes refocused, she finally saw it, turning to face her.

The creature towered over Hilda, the stump that was waist-high to her only knee-high to it. It was still humanoid, and clearly… transitional. Its stance was digitigrade, but it’s anatomy looked… wrong. It was as though it’s legs had extra joints in them, further inspection making it relievingly clear why: Marianne’s legs were entirely untouched, but where her feet should have began there was a black, gunky mess, turning into the signature flesh of the demonic beasts that composed the rest of the chimeric leg. The larger, more prominent arm showed a similar condition. Marianne’s sleeve wasn’t even torn, though black ribbons of that same tar danced across it, but just as with her feet her hands were wholly engulfed in inky blackness that gave way to an uncannily think arm and eerily elongated hand. The opposite arm, however looked far more concerning. The eldritch sludge had stretched nearly up to her elbow, and where her wrist should be, Hilda saw it: glowing like a flame, Blutgang’s crest stone, extending out into the razor-sharp blade. Most terrifying of all, however, was Marianne’s face. While most of her torso and the bases of her limbs seemed relatively untouched, her  _ face _ was a different story. The tar seemed to have crossed her neck in the journey to her opposite arm, and crawled up her jaw and cheeks. Her mouth remained free, but it had sealed both her eyes shut, extending up her forehead in thin tendrils from above them. Her hair, normally so dignified and well kept, framed the ghastly sight in a wispy blue haze.

Hilda could have fainted. Or cried. Or puked.

But there was no time for that. It was moving.

Effortlessly, the beast lifted a leg onto the stump and lunged forward with its claw-arm, reaching over the wide stump with ease. Hilda, however, wasn’t about to be caught off guard. With the handle of her axe, she parried the swing. To her immediate horror, the arm folded back on impact, with an accompanying  _ snap _ as if every bone within had cracked at once. She quickly remembered that there was no Marianne in there; emboldened, she pushed back against the weakened arm and brought her axe down on it. The limb severed with ease, accompanied by a harrowing whine. Marianne’s mouth didn’t move an inch to accompany the noise. Looking to her other arm, Hilda watched the crest stone rattle in the socket it’d made of Marianne’s wrist, color intensifying as the arm writhed in the air. It seemed to be screaming on its own, a possibility fortified by its host’s silence.

Faster than anyone could have anticipated, the sword arm straightened itself and came down on Hilda. She ducked and weaved, but despite her best efforts it cut clean through her hair and shaved some skin clean off her shoulder, bare muscle exposed at an unnaturally sharp angle. Wincing, she looked down at the gory mess of her shoulder.

The creature’s awkward position stalled it for a moment, giving Hilda ample time to step back. Her head felt lighter; looking at the pink curtain on the ground and feeling up at her neck, it was clear why. Her ponytail had been replaced with a strange feeling topknot. She reached up to pull her accessories out, but was reminded of the injury her shoulder had just taken. Breathing deep, she recalled her white magic training. It was nowhere near the level of a true healer, but she’d studied the  _ Recover _ technique. Her inexperience meant she could muster at best two uses without resting, and she cursed the fact that such a small injury happened on such an important part of her body to coax the first cast out of her. In an instant, her skin wove itself over the gap. It’s uncanny angle remained, but soon it was covered with scar tissue. If she made it back to the monastery, she’d need to adjust her outfit; a huge exposed scar would hurt her delicate flower act, after all. Freeing her now shoulder length hair from it’s ties, she replanted her feet and stared the beast down with her axe. It had reoriented itself, but now it was Hilda’s turn to act.

She’d taken out one of its arms, but she could already see a new one growing to replace it from the slimy nub she’d left behind. The process seemed slow. Hilda took her notes quickly: this thing could regenerate, given time, but if she moved quickly she could incapacitate it enough. All she had to do was get the sword. She wasn’t sure that would help, but she was sure that it was the only thing that might. Lowering her axe, she charged with an apparent recklessness. Her target acted on impulse, which meant it had no ability to suspect any scheming from her, and just as she expected it to it raised its sword arm high once more. In the exact trajectory that Hilda had imagined, the blade came down, and her entire body jerked to the side to avoid it. Gambling that the legs were physically like the arms, she swung upwards at the art beneath Marianne’s ankle. Feeling it shatter just as the arm did, she grinned madly as the beast collapsed, bringing her axe back down on its other leg. This one cut clean off, incapacitating three of the beast’s four limbs. Now all that remained was the sword, which proved more difficult to approach than expected. Hilda knew taking it out was going to hurt Marianne, but she needed to make sure to hurt her as little as possible. Ideally not at all.

The beast rose to its feet once more, but now without its extra leg mass was left standing no taller than Marianne naturally did. The sword and regrowing limb reached past its knees, nearly to its ankles as it lurched towards her. Being eye-level to its face,  _ her _ face corrupted… It was upsetting. But Hilda remained resolute. She had to think of a way to stop the sword arm. Looking around, she saw only one option, one tool for her to make use of, but it wouldn’t be easy.

“Hey, tar-for-brains!” She realized that the creature never looked at her, directly. It made sense; the eyes were obscured. It must have been going off sound. “Let go of my fucking girlfriend!” Acting confident helped Hilda be confident, and she needed that. As expected, broadcasting her location to the thing prompted it to lunge at her once more. She held Freikugel from up near the blade, using her other arm to brace it against herself. She wasn’t planning on attacking right now. This was a shield.

With every hit, Hilda took a step back. She could feel the monster growing taller up against her. Its legs were regrowing. If it gained too much height, it’d have too good an angle for Hilda’s plan to work. She had to move faster. Quickly, she began to tilt, moving the monster back in a circle. She couldn’t take her eyes off it to check behind her. If she missed, it’d be too tall by the time they looped back around. She had to get this in one go. She had to remember the layout of this place from that one day, however long ago.

And then, she felt it bump against her ankle. The familiar bumps and textures of wood.

“Come on, now…” She began to taunt. She didn’t know if it could understand her, but taunting made it easy to sound angry, and she wanted it to know she was  _ pissed. _ “Is that all you’ve got, you big freak? Marianne is the strongest person I know, and you’re using her to be  _ this _ weak?!  **_Pathetic!_ ** ” A few more slashes rung out against the axe, before Hilda’s opportunity presented itself: the inky blackness of the blade caught moonlight as the monster lifted it skyward. Smirking, Hilda stepped to the side; the attack grazed her arm, tearing the sleeve clean off and shaving off a gnarly chunk of her skin, but it didn’t matter. This would hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. She’d won. 

Hefting her axe, she looked at the result of her plan: The monster, looming over the stump, blade stuck deep into it.

“Babe…” she lifted the relic over her head.

“I love you…” It began to glow bright-hot, reflecting off the tar like a bonfire.

“And I’m so, so sorry!” Her voice cracked, as if she was finally allowing herself weakness. The axe fell like a meteor, crashing down right where Marianne’s wrist would be. It resisted, unlike the monster’s conjured limbs, but it didn’t matter. Sawdust, black steam, and dust rose into the air, mixing into a canvas to catch the brightness of the weapon and engulf the duo in an orange hellscape. As they settled, Hilda looked down in awe. The entire front of the stump had been split clean off, standing upright beside her axeblade which had dug a few inches into the earth. Above, on embedded into the rest of the stump, was a tar-coated lump that extended out into a silent, dead crest stone and a dormant blade on one end and some dripping, bloody gore on the other. As her sense of sound returned, Hilda could hear it: Marianne, screaming in agony on the ground before her. She couldn’t see her yet, so she grabbed the slice of stump and tossed it aside lest it happen to fall on her. Following the wails, she found Marianne a few feet away, seemingly knocked back; that whole time, she must have been pulling against the blade.

Hilda didn’t bother with retrieving her axe or checking her arm. In an instant, she threw herself to Marianne, who was writhing in the grass. “Marianne? Marianne! Can you hear me?”

“...Hilda? Hilda, is that you?..” The relief that washed over Hilda at those words was immeasurable, to the extent that she nearly threw herself at Marianne in embrace before remembering that neither of their arms were in any condition to do that. She was bawling before she even realized it, but her smile never faded. 

“Yea… Yea, Marianne. It’s me. Is that… you?” The black masses that had covered her seemed to be receding, black smog coming off of them as they shriveled up. Kneeling over Marianne, Hilda grabbed at them, and they came off with ease. “Hold that thought… Please, brace yourself, okay?” She grabbed at the two thicker bands that stretched from her neck to her eyes and, giving a prayer to the Goddess, tore them off. She sighed in thanks; Marianne’s eyes were shut underneath, and apart from the light wince she gave in response, she seemed fine. Hilda’s tears fell onto Marianne’s forehead as she held her face affectionately.

“Hilda… my… my hand.” 

Oh, fuck. Her hand. Expression growing panicked, Hilda turned to the arm that laid beside her, an arm that ended just above the wrist. She brushed off the tar that formed a ring around it, prompting a number of pained grunts from Marianne, before looking at the end of it and seeing about what she expected. Exposed muscle and bone stared back at her. “Oh, oh… Oh. Marianne, I… I can fix this.”

“I know you did only what you had to, my love… And I know you can make it better.” Despite everything, Marianne’s voice never strayed from being supportive. It seemed as though she was back to her senses now. Nodding, Hilda took her hand up over the point of severance, sealed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

White magic was the culmination of mankind’s faith. Leading research seemed to suggest that it was powered by one’s belief that their actions were righteous, on the most metaphysical of levels; this is why one could channel it regardless of what divine they believed in, even though most believed that not all Gods could be real. And so, Hilda began to pray.

_ Goddess, please. _ The white glow began to coat her hand.  _ Marianne… what that thing did with her body, that wasn’t her. She’s one of the kindest, warmest, most radiant people I know, and all she wanted was to be able to protect us.  _ She found her thoughts wandering somewhere resentful.  _ Why would you give her this Crest? Why would you make this blade that could transform her even through it? Why would you build this world, where she had to turn to something like this just to help the people she loved? To help me? _ The faith she thought she had in the Goddess seemed weaker than anticipated, but it didn’t matter. If the Goddess was wrong, Hilda knew that  _ Marianne _ was right. She knew that Marianne didn’t deserve this. That faith was unshakeable.

When she opened her eyes again, the gory nub was gone. In its place was a smooth, rounded stump. Hilda knew that white magic couldn’t restore a lost limb, but… she’d be lying if she didn’t hope that maybe it had, somehow. Still, this was fine. The wound was sealed. Marianne was fine. The pain seemed to have subsided as well, judging by the fact that she was breathing calmly, though the shock might have set her to sleep. Hilda raised her hand to pull the hair from her face, only to find a stinging pain running up her arm. She’d used up all the magic she could muster healing Marianne, so her own injury would have to be left to her the infirmary workers back at the monastery. With her good arm, she tore the tattered fabric of her sleeve from the injured hand and went to retrieve her axe.

Blutgang still stuck out of the stump, though its uncanny aliveness seemed to be entirely gone. Hilda grabbed it by the tip, keeping away from the crest stone and the tarry bits. Even if it seemed dormant, it was better to be safe than possessed. She tossed it aside into the grass and grabbed Freikugel in her good arm, looking down at the sword vindictively. Eyes full of vitriol, she spat down at the accursed thing, then tugged at her axe, once to loosen it and twice to pull it from the dirt. Her injured arm sitting limp at her side, she kneeled and stretched and used the full strength of her core muscles and her good arm to launch the axe into the air, bringing it down in a clean arc onto the discarded relic. The irony of using her own Heroes’ Relic to destroy another wasn’t lost on her. She would make sure to avoid Freikugel as best she could in the future. 

Wincing as she found herself forced to use her injured arm, she lifted up the hefty axe and tucked it into her belt, tying it steady with the torn sleeve. There was only one thing left to do before they could leave this place. She trudged over to where Marianne slept, knelt over, and picked her up, slinging the slumbering woman over her good shoulder with a final grunt. She cracked her neck a few times. It had felt funny, now, with the short, uneven bob that her hair had become covering it far more directly than her ponytail used to. Maybe when they got back, and slept through the week to rest up, Marianne could clean it up for her. _ That’d be nice. _ The thought kept her going as she trudged towards the monastery.

As she walked back through the forest, Hilda noticed that everything seemed… quieter. The animals had gone silent. The twigs that snapped beneath her feet were more subdued. And when she kicked a rock aside with her stride, the rustling of leaves barely caught her attention. She soon realized why that was. One sound, one beautiful sound, overtook them all. Coming from right behind her was Marianne’s soft snoring, the comforted breaths of someone finally resting after a long, long time. 

That alone, as far as Hilda was concerned, made this all worth it.


	6. day 6: dance / confession / tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one for today! A soft little 1k about dancing and crying and telling eachother how you feel. i honestly didn't have much of an idea for today because the dlc gave me hapistance brainworms but i hope you like the fluff!

Tears streamed down both girls faces as they swayed together. Hilda felt Marianne’s soft hand wrap around hers; Marianne felt Hilda’s strong arm against the small of her back. Neither was particularly good at dancing like this, and more so when it was in front of so many people. Still, they weren’t the only ones dancing, right? Family and friends surrounded them, certainly all too busy with each other to bother looking at the two women of the hour. Reassuring themselves of that helped ignore the dozens of prying eyes.

The music was soft, tender, loving, an orchestra paid for by the joint coffers of houses Edmund, Goneril, and Riegan. After all, Claude wasn’t simply going to leave two of his best friends to do this on their own, not after all that he owed them. He sat a few tables away from the dance floor, sipping arak happily while making Lorenz try the stuff and watching him cough. Occasionally, Hilda would shoot him a look, just to check if she was doing okay; he would always respond with a nod and a wink. He knew Marianne was going to be elated by tonight no matter what.

Eventually, the mood had slowed enough that the two could talk. It was a good thing it came when it did, because any earlier and they still would have been sniffling too much to get the words out. Simultaneously, they said each other’s names, then giggled at how in-sync they were. Hilda leaned in and gave Marianne a kiss, then let her speak.

“Hilda… today is the happiest day of my life, I think. I can’t remember a time when I felt so… at peace. Thank you. Thank you for making this possible.”

“Oh, Marianne,” Hilda’s hand traced its way up her now-wife’s side and cupped her cheek. “You don’t need to thank me for making the best decision I ever have. There’s nothing I wanted more than to see this day. I… I’ve known for a long time. Before the war, even, back at the academy. It’s… rare for me to be so sure of anything. Commitments like this are scary. But I was never scared with you.”

Hearing the words, Marianne choked up, though not without a smile on her face. “Oh… you always know what to say. May I confess something, beloved?”

_ Beloved. _ No matter how many times she heard it, it never failed to make Hilda giddy. “Of course, my dear. Anything you want.”

“When we first met, I… I thought you would never know me. I thought you were so… cool, and confident, and I could tell that you were more capable than you pretended to be. Compared to that, I was just… Marianne. I couldn’t ever imagine you taking an interest in that. But you did.” Leaning in, they exchange another kiss, flavored salty by errant tears. “I’m so glad you did.”

Hilda didn’t let Marianne retreat after the embrace, holding her close so that their heads remained side-by-side. “I couldn’t have had it any other way. Can I confess something too, now?”

“Yes… Please, go ahead.”

“The moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted to get closer. I could tell, somehow, that…  _ something _ about you was just wonderful, even if you were keeping it hidden away. I was scared you never would, honestly, and that I was just being… I dunno, pushy and invasive, or something. But you did. You opened up. You let me see the wonderful woman who took me from smitten to in love.” Now it was Hilda’s turn, and she moved in for a kiss just as Marianne had. “I’m glad you did that. I can’t imagine my life without it.”

The women stopped dancing now, if you could call the slow holding-each-other-and-swaying they’d been doing a dance. They didn’t feel the need to any longer. They simply stood there, in the middle of everybody else, surrounded by all the people who loved them and looking into the eyes of the one who loved them the most.

And then Marianne started laughing. 

Cocking her eyebrow at her, Hilda looked confused by the giggles. Was she simply that giddy? Tapping her shoulder, Marianne gestured with her head for her to turn around. Soon, Hilda was laughing too.

Behind her, Raphael and Leonie had gotten into what seemed to be some kind of contest, judging by the sight of them. On Raphael’s shoulder sat Ignatz, and on Leonie’s, Lysithea. The muscle bound man was now leaning down in front of Flayn, who quickly hopped up onto his opposite shoulder before he stood triumphantly before his opponent. Not the kind to be one-upped, Leonie started chasing after Seteth, Lysithea holding onto her head for dear life as the woman jogged between tables. The wives couldn’t keep themselves from bursting into laughter watching events unfold, until Leonie lost her balance and fell onto Seteth, who fell onto Raphael, who fell onto the drinks table and soaked everyone involved in the rainbow of juices, spirits, and cocktails, much to the amusement of Claude, Lorenz, and the rest of the former Leicester army. Hanneman and Manuela, off to the side, started bickering as they often did, mostly out of Manuela snidely giving Hanneman an “I told you so!” It was her idea, after all, to suggest  _ wooden _ drinking vessels despite glassware being a far more common option for an event as fancy as a wedding. Her caution paid off, in the form of their former students not getting torn to bits by glass shards. 

Shrugging at each other, Hilda and Marianne exchanged one more kiss before continuing their waltz, now alone with the rest of the couples leaving to go check on the entourage by the drinks. Despite the big day, it seemed some things just never changed, and that was fine by them. They would gladly return to running after their friends tomorrow, on whatever antics they would all get up to then.

But today was their wedding day.

Today, they would dance.


	7. day 7: free day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 7! a short 969 (nice) word fluffy fic and also the only pre-ts one of the whole week! i was stumped for inspiration, so I decided to go back and use a prompt i didn't from a previous day: goddess tower! please enjoy!

“Marianne? What are you doing here?”

Making her way up the steps of the Goddess Tower, Hilda was surprised to find that she had company. She’d come up here to escape the constant barrage of people trying to dance with her, but she didn’t imagine that someone else would have taken her idea first. Few people came to the Goddess Tower alone, after all.

“Oh, Hilda…” Marianne had been praying. She knew that the Goddess Tower legend only applied to pairs, but she figured that prayer in somewhere as holy as this would always be appreciated, and a better use of time than attending a ball she didn’t care for with people who were probably tired of her already. “I came to pray… Dancing doesn’t really appeal to me, so I didn’t want to go to the ball.”

Casually, Hilda jumped up onto the windowsill and rested her back against its side. “Yea?.. Believe it or not, me neither. I mean, dancing is fine and all, but being at a ball like  _ that… _ exhaaaaauuuuusting!” She spoke as if she was in a mess hall and not a holy site.

“Haha… You probably got lots of people fighting for your attention, right? I can see why that would make you tired.” 

“Yup! But I’m glad I found you here. I’m never too tired for my best friend, y’know!”

Marianne gulped, though thankfully too quiet to echo in the chamber they were in. It wasn’t the first time Hilda had called her that, but she still wasn’t used to it. It made her… feel. Happy, anxious, relieved, afraid to disappoint… Feel. She was almost tempted to say  _ “Oh, well, Claude isn’t here,” _ but decided it was too rude.

“Soooooo… what were you praying for?” The words made Marianne jump; while she was lost in thought, Hilda had snuck up on her and now dipped her head just over her shoulder. 

“A-Ah, I… I was just praying for good fortune… blessings for our class… normal prayers. I didn’t really have anything specific in mind.”

“But you can pray for that stuff any day!” Hilda had seen Marianne standing in the cathedral for many, many hours at a time. “You  _ do _ pray for that stuff any day. Tonight is special!”

Marianne’s heart rate sped up. She knew tonight was special, any student at the monastery did, but… people usually used the special occasion for something romantic. And Hilda… Hilda wouldn’t want that with her. She could do better. Marianne knew it.

“Are you saying you want to make a vow? Because… well, if you have one in mind, I would be honored to pray for it with you.”

“A vow? Doesn’t the legend say you need a man and a woman for one?”

“Well, some people think that, but others believe it works regardless! Mercedes was telling me about it in the cathedral yesterday.”

Hearing that, Hilda clapped her hands giddily. “Oh, of course, then! I would love to. I know that I won’t regret any vow we share!”

_ Any vow?.. Was she… trying to say something? _ “Well, you can pick the vow, then! I didn’t really have anything specific I wanted to pray for…”

“Hmmm… okay! Let’s pray to always be by each other’s sides, no matter what tries to come between us!”

That nearly sent Marianne into shock. Something that intimate, now? She really was starting to think she might be in a dream. Expression as confusing as she was confused, she nodded. “Okay! That sounds wonderful.” Closing her eyes, she began to move her hands into a prayer pose, only to feel Hilda’s wrapping around them. In shock, her eyelids flew open to see Hilda’s face across from her, eyes-shut and smiling as she began.

“Oh, Goddess… Hear our vow!” Shock decreasing, Marianne closed her eyes once more and quietly repeated. “Please keep us by each other’s sides for the rest of our lives, no matter what.” Hilda paused awkwardly. She wasn’t used to this. “...thank you!”

Opening their eyes, Marianne and Hilda found the other staring into them. Their hands did not unlock. In the moonlight, they stood there, gazing at one another not knowing if it was loving or friendly. And then Marianne spoke.

“Hey, Hilda… you said you like dancing, right? You just… don’t like dances?”

“Yea… Yea, I guess I did say that.”

“I’m not a very good dancer, but… you deserve a dance to enjoy.” Marianne wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from, but it didn’t seem to be fading. “Do you want to dance?”

Suddenly, the distant echoes of the ball music that had been muted in the background seemed to well up, as if to cheer them on. It drew Marianne’s attention for a moment, but she looked back quickly. When she did, she found Hilda looking uncharacteristically anxious.

“I… I would like that, but… do you want to seal out vow first?”

“Seal our vow?.. Do you mean a handshake, or something?”

“I was thinking, maybe…” Hilda’s cheeks were pinker than her hair as she looked up at her best, dearest friend, who she’d promised to spend all of her life beside and was about to risk making everything awkward wirth. “A kiss?”

The emotions Marianne underwent in that moment were immeasurable and indescribable. She felt her body move and her mind jumble and when she regrounded herself her lips were pressed into Hilda’s lips and Hilda’s hands were pressed into her cheeks. It was just one kiss of course; they weren’t about to make out in a place of such religious significance. But it  _ lasted. _ And then, it parted, and they simply stood their holding one another close and smiling like most high schoolers do after kissing crushes they weren’t sure they had.

And then Hilda spoke.

“So… let’s dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats that! i hope you all enjoyed this little collection of fics. i definitely enjoyed writing it! bless you all and more importantly bless marianne and hilda. amen


End file.
